The Op
by Inks Inc
Summary: Undercover Operations are a part of the job. There's no avoiding them, and usually, there's no real reason to. Until now. Borderline crack-fic. Warning: Very mild adult theme. One-Shot.


He turned to the door to find Tony blocking it with a lopsided and downright maniacal grin. He turned to the _other_ door to find Ziva shaking her head slowly, a set of perfect teeth on display as she laughed heartily. He dodged unsuccessfully as Abby made another beeline for his hair, which he was already quite sure was intermingled with blood, such was the pulling and dragging she had wreaked upon it. Last but not least his gaze lingered helplessly on Tim, as he stood back with that damned magic phone of his, laughing obscenely and capturing his humiliation on film.

He would never, ever hear the end of this.

"You're perfect," Abby squealed, stepping back and slapping his vigorously on the arm, beaming at her choice of outfit and the hair she had beaten into submission. "Isn't he _perfect_ guys?" she demanded of the other three, swiping away a piece of imaginary lint. Sniggering, and continuing to do so regardless of the quailing gaze that fell upon him, Tony answered in the affirmative.

"You'll be the prettiest girl there, Boss," he spluttered, ignoring Gibbs' narrowed gaze, "you'll be beating them off with a stick." Ringing laughter soared around the room, drowning out the sound of the team leads ire. It was a hideous position he was in, really, it was. He didn't even know how it happened, and yet, happened it had. Of course he wouldn't be fortunate enough to keep it discrete, oh no, that wasn't the way his life worked.

He would have to have a captive audience of four..

His heart sank as the door creaked open at that thought, his audience of four becoming an audience of five.

"My my, Jethro," Ducky exclaimed with a sly grin as he gambled into the room, "you _do_ look spiffing. It is so very rare to see you suited and booted like this, you really should do it more often, a handsome devil such as yourself."

Only the deepest respect and liking for Dr Mallard kept Gibbs' vicious thoughts inside his skull.

Feeling a last bout of desperation, he turned to Tony and took a deep breath.

"DiNozzo, I will give you…two months. Two whole months off of headslaps if you take my place on this. Scratch that, three. I will give you _three_ entire months. That's a good deal." He stood to his fullest height, managing to look both imploring and threatening at the same time. "You should take it."

The traditional Tony smile gleamed all the wider, as the sandy brown head shook in the negative.

"No can do, Boss," the younger agent grinned, "You read the brief. You are the only one who err…fits the description, as it were. Don't worry, you'll be great." His grin widened further and a hearty chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Just be yourself. He'll flock to you. Hell…you might even get another wife out of it. Or…in this case, husband."

He ducked expertly out of the way of the oncoming slap upside his head.

Sighing, Gibbs looked down at his attire and looked up into the mirror so _kindly_ provided by his team. This was hell. This was sheer hell on earth. He wasn't paid enough for this, he was too old for this and he sure as hell wasn't _ok_ with this. But…if the case were to be cracked, he needed to do it. And if there was one thing he was not, it was derelict in his duties.

Sighing, he arched his shoulders and winced.

"Jeez, Abbs, can't you make this thing a little looser? I can barely breathe in this ridiculous get up."

Laughter rang around the room once more as sheer frustration mounted inside him.

"Sorry Gibbs," Abby giggled, "The more uhm…tailored you are, the more believable you are."

He scrabbled at his attire in agitation as she ducked away. He had to leave in three minutes and he'd honestly rather die. Tony, Tim, Ziva and Ducky chose that moment to encircle him, and offer…their constructive advice.

"Don't be afraid to hustle now, Boss," Tony laughed, "This role, is all about the confidence you know." His glower was barely at boiling point when Tim chimed in, glancing down at the role description in his hand, the one that had given them all, save Gibbs, such joy. "Wanted. One night only. A strong, handsome, _forceful_ man. Must be in his mid to late fifties. Must have grey hair and a beautiful smile. Must be willing to lead the way, the way, to pleasure based pain. Outfit will be supplied. "

Ziva collapsed over in a heap at the last sentence, her hands supporting her stomach as she heaved with laughter. Gibbs felt faint with misery, as Ducky went utterly red in the head from suppressed amusement. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Ziva recovered enough to produce to the photo of their target. A one hundred and fifty pound, sixty three year old, beefy, balding banker named "Desire."

"You know…I think you would make a very cute couple, really, I do. He seems to be so eager to _please_ after all."

Gibbs barely had the time or the energy to shoot her a growl, before Abby retrieved what she had been rooting for and pressed it into his hands, sending howls of laughter around the conference room once more. He looked down at it in absolute horror, and seriously considered cashing in his 401K and fleeing the country. He'd always liked Europe, he could be happy…in Europe. Hell maybe Scotland Yard was hiring.

Eyes glinting with amusement, Abby glanced at her watch.

"You have to go. The driver is waiting to take you to the club outside. The password to get into the club is _Eggplant."_

Gibbs felt his jaw drop.

"Eggplant?"

Tony and Tim sniggered in interruption before Abby could answer. "I don't think Eggplant's are going to be at the top of the weird list you'll see tonight Boss," McGee chuckled. Knowing his time was up, Gibbs squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth. It was just another undercover op, he'd done hundreds of them.

This, he could do.

"Remember to be firm, but _fun,_ Boss," Tony chimed in, glancing down at the PS script on the wanted Ad, causing Ducky to choke on his own oxygen with the laughter. Gibbs glared but was thankful at least, that this op was off the books and he wouldn't be forced to write it up. He couldn't possibly deal with Jen's reaction if she knew about this, he really couldn't.

"Alright, alright," he growled, "fun time's over. Get into MTAC and be my eyes and ears from this end."

As they went scooting out the door, he very faintly caught what he was sure was a very lewd comment between them all about "ends." Sighing as the door remained open, signalling his own exit, he resolved to get going. Sooner he was there, sooner he could leave and hide in his basement with two bottles of bourbon.

Just as he was about to communicate this to his legs, a shadow fell over the door and his heart sank like a stone.

Standing in the doorway, her head tilted in confusion but with a gleeful smile splashed across her face stood one Director Shepherd. Taking in the full scene in front of her, her smile grew wider and wider as Gibbs stood frozen stiff, uncharacteristically muted. A dull flush began to heat up at the back of his neck and for the first time in a very long time he knew the true feeling of mortification.

Drinking in the outrageously tight, black leather pants that clung to his legs, and the large black and silver studded boots that adorned his feet, Jenny's smile reached epidemic levels. As she swivelled her eyes upwards to the impossibly tight white t-shirt, bulging at the chest and sleeves her teeth became bared. Her eyes roved upwards to the gelled back hair, laden down with all manner of product and her teeth parted. Finally, her gaze came to a final rest at the thick, and brilliantly pink leather paddle that resided in Gibbs' hands and her eyes became a blazing inferno. Licking her lips, she leaned against the door's frame and took in one last scorching view.

"My my Jethro…it's like our little hut in Serbia all over again."

…

A/N: Don't ask me, I don't where this came from. But here it is.

…...


End file.
